Stay
by Aqua15
Summary: Wat and Chaucer meet by the fire... will they fight again? It's my first AKT fic...Please R&R!!


No one belongs to me, even if I'd like to.  
  
This is my first AKT fic. I saw the movie in the cinema, and found it extremely cute, and now, after I bought the DVD I'm addicted to it. Anyway please read this and tell me how you liked it.  
  
  
  
Stay  
  
by Aqua15  
  
Wat sat staring at the fire. The dancing flames reflected in his eyes and coloured them golden. But he didn't see them anyway. His mind was brooding over somebody who's name he had said a thousand times, but at that moment he didn't even dare to think it.  
  
// Why does he act like that? Always teasing me... why can't he treat me as a normal person? Like he treats Will or Roland... or Kate... it would be best if he just leaves me alone... I don't need his company or to talk with him... though his speeches are really good. He really rocks as a herald, but the first time I was actually shocked by his open admittance of our 'differences'... I hope they'll never find out the truth about Will...//  
  
Wat let out a deep sigh at the thought of the blond man tied up and led away by some soldiers. Will was now at the banquet with Jocelyn, Roland and Kate were sleeping peacefully in the tent and Chaucer was somewhere around.  
  
//... gambling... // the red-haired man stated in his mind. He thought of the first time they had met the writer, walking down a road, drowning in anticipation of their first tournament. Naked, like the nature had formed him, Chaucer had walked past them, greeting politely. He hadn't even seemed to be embarrassed by his nudity.  
  
// But from the first time on he liked to tease us... actually me... always calling me a girl, or telling me that I should do this, and mustn't do that... what am I? His child? I'm neither weak, nor young. What does he want from me? Always just grinning stupidly at me, when I start to curse him. He doesn't even defend himself, when I hit him... I can't understand this man... //  
  
Wat took a log of wood, that was lying beside the fire. Like a piece of gold he turned it in his hands, examining it carefully.  
  
// But why then don't I hate him? Why am I so hurt when he teases me but can't manage to hate him?... //  
  
Slowly he started to play a little with the log, throwing it a little in the air and catching it again.  
  
"Do I want to hate him? Or is there something I haven't realised yet?" he asked out loud, again staring at the piece of wood.  
  
Suddenly a chuckle from behind let him turn around and look directly at a teasingly grinning writer.  
  
"Master Wat, " Chaucer started, walking over to where the red-head was sitting alone by the fire, "are you talking to yourself or have you found a new friend?" Questioningly he pointed at the piece of wood. Sighing he sat down next to an every second more annoyed Wat. The writer knew, that the other man would hit him again, but he couldn't hold back his next comment, "C'mon, why don't you introduce me to him?"  
  
Staring at the fire Chaucer mentally readied himself to defend a sudden hit from Wat. He had experienced the short temperdness of the other man more often than he wished to. But what could he do? He really had a problem with communicating. Not generally, though, but with Wat.  
  
//Ok... be attentive, Geoff... you know you teased him again and you know you deserve hits, but what else should I do? What else could I do?... Talking with him is so what difficult... about what can I talk to him? About jousting and Will? That's everything we talk about. Nothing more, nothing less... I want to know more about him, but there's always the peril to get hit... though when he's angry he looks really cute... did I just think THAT?... Ok... could it be that I called the guy sitting beside me cute?... //  
  
Carefully he threw a glance to the side, expecting, that anytime a fist could meet his nose. But he didn't see a fist before him, only a calm Wat, staring at the piece of wood in his hands.  
  
//Wasn't I supposed to be hit for my last comment?... // Chaucer wondered. // What's up with him? He can't be ill or something, or is he? //  
  
Examining the writer kept his eyes on the red-head. He was really concerned about his friend. He had never seen him in such a... peaceful mood. Slowly he started to follow the lines of his opponent's face with his eyes. They traced down from the other's forehead, along his nose to the slightly opened lips, further down to the throat and up again to the ear and the spiky red hair. At last he fixed on the other's eyes, that were still looking dreamily into nowhere.  
  
// Beautiful... // the writer stated in his mind and wondered the next second if he really had thought that.  
  
//Ok, you have drunk wine today... but it wasn't much, just to celebrate the victory... but why then do I think about a guy, that he's beautiful?... His mouth is gorgeous... shut up, Chaucer!...//  
  
Slowly a blush crept up to the writer's cheeks. He didn't know what to do and found it extremely embarrassing, that he had stared at Wat for so long. So he started to stare into the fire, but now and then he threw a glance at the red-head.  
  
Wat, in return, got really nervous. He had stayed calm this time, though it had cost him a lot of strength to not hit the herald again. He had thought, that maybe the writer would go by himself if he just didn't pay attention to him. But Chaucer stayed by his side, and, what made him so nervous, he observed him so teasingly, that the red-head didn't know if he could hold his annoyance back for long.  
  
//C'mon, Geoff, normally you should go and wonder why I didn't harm you... // Wat pleaded. He found it extremely unpleasant, that, even when the writer had stopped staring, he was still throwing glances at him. Finally Wat couldn't hold it back anymore. He asked, putting all his annoyance in his question, "Could you please stop that? Or do you need to be hit? I don't need your company! So please LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
  
That had been worse that a hit for the writer. Chaucer felt so unwanted in that moment and looked up into two gleaming eyes, that told him more intensely, that he should shut up and go away. Normally Geoff would have followed such an instruction, but this time he couldn't stop looking in those eyes, full of hate for him. He found them so beautiful, so deep, so... They enchanted his mind, and he couldn't move a millimetre.  
  
// He doesn't like me. He never liked me. Those eyes, those wonderful eyes... Why does it hurt so much? I wanted to talk to him... I just wanted to know him better, but... // slowly Chaucer's eyes filled with tears.  
  
Wat looked, or stared back into the writer's eyes. he didn't know why, but he found it wonderful to drown in those two pools of blue. But why didn't Chaucer move? Why didn't he go away, as he had ordered? Suddenly he broke the eye contact and saw the writer wincing a little.  
  
"I said stop that!" he said again, but this time he didn't mean this words of his. He just didn't know what to say. Carefully he threw another glance at the writer, if he had understood his words. But what he saw broke his heart.  
  
The writer sat there and wiped away some tears, that were about to leave his eyes. Wat never wanted to hurt the other man that much. And now he regretted so much his harsh words. But the writer had understood. Slowly Geoff stood up and went towards the tent they all slept in.  
  
Before Wat could think again, he heard himself say, "Please... stay... I didn't mean to... please forgive me... "  
  
The writer's heart jumped at these words. With a small smile on his lips he went back to the fire and sat down beside Wat.  
  
"Why do you tease me so much?" Wat started, staring at the log of wood he was still holding in his ahnds.  
  
"What?" Chaucer answered, not ready for that question. He knew the answer well, but he couldn't tell the one... //... because I love you... // the writer answered in his mind. He had found that out long ago, but he had never been strong enough to admit it to himself.  
  
"You heard what I asked you. So please, I want to know the answer... " The red-head threw the log into the slowly dying fire, and sparks flew up, looking like small fireflies. Expectantly he leant back on his hands.  
  
"You... I... I mean... " Chaucer tried to explain, but couldn't find the right words. The writer hed never felt so speechless and trapped in his whole life.  
  
"Yes...?" Wat asked again.  
  
"I... " Geoff started again.  
  
The red-head leant forward a little. He didn't want to miss one single word of the reason he wanted to know so much ,and wondered, why Chaucer suddenly was so speechless. Though he found it really cute, he had to admit to himself.  
  
Suddenly Chaucer grabbed Wat by his arm and pulled the other man into a deep kiss.  
  
Wat was shocked by this 'attack', but he didn't pull away. He enjoyed every second of this kiss, for he now knew the answre to his question, why he wasn't able to hate Chaucer.  
  
//Because I love him... // Wat thought and let himself fall into Chaucer's arms. Not willing to ever let him go.  
  
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So guys, that's the end. I don't think there will be a second chapter, but if there are enough reviews I could write another one. So please R&R!! 


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